I am so angry! And I am angry that I am angry because I hate it. It’s a wasted emotion.
When you have a long term condition -particularly a mental health illness – there are people in your life who cope well and seem, instinctively, to be able to offer support. People who know that a text saying ‘thinking of you’ means everything when you are living in the darkest parts of your brain.
Then there are others who steer clear. Maybe they don’t know what to do. Maybe they think they’ll be sobbed on if they so much as say hello.
I have quite cheerfully said goodbye to most of the people of this second type. Deleting them from Facebook, not reaching out to them on my good days because they haven’t been there on the bad.
Sometimes, though, the ‘steer-clear’ people are those you should have been able to rely on: your family. My family seems to be more concerned about the impact my illness has on them than the impact it has on me. I often go for weeks without hearing from them and then, when I do, they are either completely offhand and ignoring the fact I am having symptoms, or they are accusatory.
Although I try not to expect anything of them – and even avoid them – every so often, this attitude rears its head again. And, for some reason, it’s happened again tonight. If anyone has any ideas about how to negate the effects, please let me know.